Mors Eleison

When the night turns black 
A slow procession of coffins 
Proceeds through the orchid path 
In time and time, to the Violet Realm 

(rit.) 
Wait Her silent coming 
Divinate the tombstone 
Mors Eleison, They're calling us 
Come on! 

From the room of cobwebs 
Where the sandglass breath resounds 
Brings us to the Silent Place 
Of wreaths and knells, 
My grave... 

(rit.) 
Now She silently comes 
Through astral plains of dust 
Mors Eleison, Mors Eleison